After the Kiss (16 page)

“Last night I was a scared little boy who thought I’d be happy with a quick lay and a few laughs over the occasional dinner.”

“And now?” she whispered.

His fingers drifted over her cheek, a whisper of a touch. “Now I’m a man, spending a
quiet evening with a woman I’m crazy about.”

Something tore open inside her, and she didn’t know if it was regret, terror, or wild, senseless joy.

She closed her eyes and turned her cheek into his palm. “Mitchell?”

“Yeah?” His voice was husky.

Julie kissed his palm, the gesture feeling like something between a promise and a goodbye. She didn’t know which. “Let’s watch baseball,” she said softly.

Twin dimples of boyish wonder appeared on his face, and the look of sheer joy there was worth the messier parts of this little relationship charade. And when he flipped on the ball game, then pulled her against him, resting his cheek against the top of her head as their hands fought for the last slice of pizza, it didn’t feel like a charade at all.

“Jules, you can’t quit now. You have him exactly where you want him,” Riley said as she signaled to the waitress for another round of drinks.

It would be Julie’s third cocktail, which was a good deal more than she should be having on a random Wednesday night when she still had work to do, but this was no ordinary weekday.

Camille had stopped by the Dating, Love, and Sex office to remind them that they were one week away from the first-draft deadline for August’s issue. One week until she was supposed to put whatever was happening with Mitchell on paper. One week until she sold him out for the sake of a story.

She needed more drinks. But more than the booze, Julie needed her girlfriends. Or at least she’d thought she’d needed them. Unfortunately, neither one was shaping up to be the beacon of infinite supportive wisdom that she’d been hoping for.

Grace was wearing her disappointed face, and every prim sip of her chardonnay seemed to scream,
You’re a dirty, dirty whore
. And Riley was even less helpful, insisting that Julie push through with the ridiculous plan.

“Yeah, I know he’s where I want him,” Julie said, trying to drink away the feeling of self-loathing. “That’s kind of my point. Mission accomplished. Now it’s time to wrap this thing up and write the damned story already.”

“Are you sure you have enough?” Riley said, scrunching up her face. “One night of baseball watching isn’t exactly a marriage proposal.”

Grace shot Riley an annoyed look.

“What?” Riley muttered. “It’s
baseball
.”

You weren’t there. It was more
. But had it been? Really? Or was she putting way too much stock in the importance of movie night? Or sports night, as it had turned out to be. It wasn’t as though there had been love words exchanged. And the next morning when she’d accompanied him on his morning run, it wasn’t as if he’d dragged her by Tiffany’s on the way back.

Something unfamiliar rippled through her at the thought of the jewelry store, and she
waited for the usual sense of dread to pour over her at the notion of one of those tiny little jewelry boxes and what they meant.

But there was no dread. No disdain. No terror.

That’s
what was unfamiliar.

She’d let the image of a freaking engagement ring roll around in her brain and hadn’t wanted to amputate the fourth finger of her left hand “just in case.”

Oh, good God
.

“Look,” Riley said in a gentler voice. “I know you feel kind of hooker-ish about the whole situation, but you said yourself this was just good sex and companionship. Maybe you guys can keep things going once you get the story written. Maybe he won’t even care.”

“You don’t know him,” she muttered. “He’s the last person to forgive someone who made him feel foolish.”

“But you knew that all along,” Grace said. “What’s changed?”

Julie took a sip but didn’t respond. Because she didn’t know how to respond. This should have been like the billion girl talks she’d had with Grace and Riley before, but this time it was different.

Because Mitchell was different.

“Uh-oh.” The uncharacteristic gentleness of Riley’s voice was nearly Julie’s undoing. She felt tears prickle the back of her eyelids, and she blinked them away.

Grace rested a hand on her arm. “Julie, you really do like him, don’t you? It’s not just guilt anymore.”

Julie lifted a shoulder and allowed herself a small sniffle, if only to prevent snot from dripping into her drink. No need to taint the self-medication. “Things have gotten a little intense.”

“Intense how?”

Oh, I don’t know … how about the fact that I seem to be actually considering the prospect of a future with a guy for the first time ever?

She squirmed. “I’m not sure, exactly. Nothing overtly changed. The sex got a little hotter. The cuddling got a little sweeter.”

Riley blanched. “You cuddled? With the subject of a story?”

Even Grace looked wary.

“I told you, it was movie night. And he was so happy about the stupid baseball game. What was I supposed to do?”

“But you don’t even like movie night—it’s been your benchmark for hell since forever.”

She licked at the sugar rim of her drink, avoiding her friends’ eyes. “Yeah, I might have been kind of wrong about that.”

“Oh, Julie,” Grace breathed in horror. “You’re in love with him.”

“I’m not,” Julie said sharply. Saying it out loud would make it true. It
couldn’t
be true. She could not be in love with an uptight, baseball-watching Wall Street broker who thought reading was a hobby and running was fun.

“Well, if you’re not in love with him, what’s the harm in letting it go on for a few more days? You still have some time before you need to write the story. Might as well stick it out. Get more material. Get more sex.”

Get more involved
, Julie mentally added.

“No,” she said firmly. “I have everything I need. I successfully snagged a guy, flirted, let him woo me, went from casual dinners to romantic dinners, from exploratory sex to hot sex, and then I had the talk followed by movie night. What else is there to discover?”

“Julie, that’s just the
start
of a real relationship,” Grace said.

Julie snatched her hand away from her well-meaning friend. “Which was exactly the assignment. To go from casual dating to serious. From there, it’s all you.”

“Okay,” Grace said easily.

“What’s that?” Julie said, pointing an accusing finger at her. “What is that tone?”

“I’m just thinking that maybe you should start looking at Mitchell in a context other than your story. You know, maybe see if things can work out.”

Julie gave a harsh laugh. “Just because you’re happy in your domesticated little Tribeca apartment with your steady, perfect boyfriend and your scheduled sex life doesn’t mean we all want that.”

“Meow,” Riley said, her eyes flicking between Grace and Julie.

But Grace merely met Julie’s eyes steadily. “Don’t put this on me and Greg. This is about you and Mitchell and about how you let a man fall in love with you so that you could impress your boss.”

“Oh, God.” Riley buried her face in her drink.

“Mitchell is not in love with me,” Julie insisted.

“You sure about that?”

Yes. More sure than I want to be
. “I’m not his type,” Julie replied. “Not even close. Deep down he knows that. Knows that I’ll never be what he’s looking for.”

“Then why hasn’t he kicked you to the curb yet?” Grace asked.

Julie faltered. It was a good question. Why had Mitchell stuck around when he’d made it clear from the first that he thought she was fake and manufactured?

“I don’t know!” she wailed, throwing her hands in the air in desperation. “This is why I have to end it. Everything’s gotten too complicated.”

Riley sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “Look, I can’t believe I’m saying this, since this was my idea and all, but you don’t
have
to write it.”

Julie shot her an exasperated look. “I wish you’d thought of that before you sold me out in the staff meeting. I was
trying
to back out of it, remember? But now that Camille knows the details, she can’t stop talking about it. Not only do I have to write it, but I have to make it good.”

“Camille would understand,” Grace said. “Just explain the situation. Tell her that emotions have gotten involved.”

Julie’s head shot up. “Tell her I’ve compromised my undercover research? I might as well just wrap a bow around my benefits and hand them to Kelli.”

Grace gave her a sad look, and Julie hated that they’d been friends for so long. She could read what Grace was too kind to say out loud:
You get Mitchell or the story. Not both
.

“What if you explained the situation to Mitchell?” Riley said, helping herself to a sip of Julie’s now abandoned drink.

Julie gave her a look. “And say what? ‘Hey, sorry I lured you into a fake relationship so that I could write all about it’?”

“He’s going to know that anyway when he reads the article,” Grace pointed out.

“Sure, but then he’ll
read
it. I won’t have to tell him.”

I won’t have to look into his eyes
.

Groaning, she tipped forward and banged her head gently on the table. For the first time in her life, Julie really and truly hated herself. Not only for her selfish deception, but for the absolute cowardice that was now crippling her.

“It would be like ripping off a Band-Aid,” Riley said, knocking lightly on the back of
Julie’s skull. “Just explain to him that it started off as harmless curiosity, but it’s turned into something more and that you want to be straight with him. He’ll probably be mad at first, but he sounds like a mellow guy. Eventually he’ll appreciate that you came clean. You could even give him the opportunity to read the story before it goes to press, and you can cut anything he doesn’t like. Hell, maybe he’ll
like
being famous.”

He won’t
.

“I can’t tell him,” she said, not looking at her friends. “Not yet.”

“It’ll come out eventually.”

“I know,” Julie snapped. “You think I don’t know that? But I need to get my feelings untangled.”

“So they
are
tangled?” Grace asked, pouncing on the word choice. “I was right, wasn’t I? He’s not the only one who’s falling in love.”

Julie scowled. Grace didn’t have to sound so triumphant. As far as she could tell, falling in love sucked.

If
that was even what was going on here.

Gawd, she wanted out of this. It was too messy, too painful, just too damn much. She wanted to go back to the way things were. Back to before Mitchell, when her life had been simple and the men had been harmless.

She needed …

Julie sat up slowly, inspiration striking.

“You know what I need?” Julie said. “I need a
date
.”

Her friends frowned in confusion. “I thought you were just talking about cutting the cord. Maybe you should let that vodka ease out of your system and see Mitchell tomorrow.”

Julie gave an impatient wave. “No, not a date with
Mitchell
. That’s how I got into this whole mess.”

Grace narrowed her eyes. “Then a date with who?”

Julie shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Could be anyone. One of you guys can fix me up. Or I’ll ask Jamie for a number from her Bible-sized black book.”

“Jules, what about Mitchell?”

“What about him? He’s too … close. He’s eaten a bagel in my bed, for God’s sake. I need some perspective. And maybe some distance will be good for him as well. Remind him that
he never wanted to be in a relationship with me in the first place.”

“Or it’ll break his heart,” Grace said angrily.

Julie gave a sad smile. “Or maybe I’ll save his heart.”

Grace shook her head, and even Riley looked vaguely horrified at Julie’s date idea. But Julie decided she was sticking to it. A little harmless flirting with a new guy would help clear her head. It would help remind her this was a
story
, not a life-or-death situation.

Her heart twisted a bit as she considered what Mitchell would think. But Riley was right about ripping off the Band-Aid. She could hurt him a little now to spare him a big hurt later.

What about
your
pain?
her heart wailed.

Julie ignored it. It was too late for that. And she deserved whatever she got.

The date had been a colossal mistake.

Not just the man. Although he’d certainly been a mistake too.

Somehow she’d managed to hold it together throughout an overpriced five-course meal at one of the city’s new celebrity-chef restaurants. A place that even she wouldn’t have been able to get reservations at had her date not been the chef’s cousin.

His name was Keith, and he was perfectly nice. Actually, better than nice. He was downright charming and completely gorgeous. He had that floppy blond hair that only strong-featured men could pull off without looking juvenile, and his smile was wide and white. He even told good jokes.

But her laugh had been brittle. Her smile strained. Her appetite forced.

She would have killed to be curled up on Mitchell’s couch with a baseball game and mediocre takeout.

What was wrong with her?

When Keith suggested they hit up the nearby Brandy Library for a nightcap, she’d meant to say yes. Instead, she blurted out what she’d been thinking ever since she’d gotten on the train that morning for work: “I want to go home.”

Keith gave her a knowing wink and paid the bill without a word. She was aware of what he was thinking: that it was all part of the game, that cutting the date short would leave him panting for more.

Hadn’t she played that very game with Mitchell just weeks before?

Only Mitchell hadn’t played. Her chest tightened.
Mitchell
.

“So can I see you again?” Keith asked as he set a hand on her waist and escorted her out of the restaurant’s waterfall foyer. Julie waited for the zip, the sizzle she’d felt when Mitchell had put his hand in that same spot and sent fireworks up her spine.